Being Werewolf
by DoradaWolf20
Summary: 19 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Fenrir Greyback is a free man after the Ministry's successful attempt to change his behavior. Now it's time for him to return to his shattered pack and see if he can change their ways as well. A continuation of my other stories following Sira Volkov (OC), assigned to watch Fenrir for the Ministry, as she learns what it means to be a werewolf.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Some say that there are monsters in the world, that the fantasies of a child's mind do in fact exist, but what they don't understand is the complexity of the situation they had just stated. What they don't know is that these so-called 'monsters' are just like the rest of us." – Sira Volkov

"If you would follow me, ma'am," the young guard said as he took a key out of a lockbox. It was his first day on the job and he seemed a bit nervous. He'd only been to the maximum security level once, and that was just when he was being showed his new place of employment. The woman, who wore her brown hair in a tight bun and a navy auror uniform, gave him a reassuring smile. Only, her bright blue eyes showed her nervousness as well.

She wasn't actually sure that what she was doing was right.

"Certainly," she replied as she followed him out of the prison's office. The key trembled in his shaky hand, jostling against his watch. She thought of something she could say to calm his nerves, but she decided against telling it. She ranked fairly high in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, since she was an auror and a trainer for the Hit Wizards. He probably feared messing up in front of her and losing his job more than the inmates in the maximum security level.

After a while, they reached their desired floor. Memories rushed back into her mind, her fighting against the guards as they dragged her to her cell. She swept the memories from her mind, her scream from the past still in her ears. She had a task to complete. She needed to focus.

But this was Azkaban, and it had affected her life extremely.

"Here we are," the guard stated quietly as he unlocked a cell door slowly. "Do you need any help with him?"

"I shouldn't," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the door.

"When you're ready, bring him to the first floor and we'll return his possessions and get him checked out."

"Thank you," she stated as the guard walked back down the hall, rushing to get out before she could move. After a moment, she opened the door.

"Sira," the gruff voice said in a whisper from the darkness of the cell. The light flooded the little room, barely touching the man that said her name. She stepped into the cell, her blue eyes looking into his yellow eyes. "Is it today?" Her eyes adjusted to the poor light as she nodded, just to see a warm smile form on his face. He stood, towering over her. She always forgot how tall he actually was.

"How have you been?" she questioned as her nerves subsided a bit with the sight of his smile. His hand tenderly touched her cheek, his thumb rubbing the corner of her mouth. A shiver ran down her spine and her mouth drew up into a smile.

"I've been alright," he whispered into her ear, "but better now that you're here." His words caused her to smile a little bit more. Somehow, by some miracle, he was sweet now. He was no longer a monster, but a man. A good friend, even though he wanted to be much more than her friend. He understood that she was married but that didn't stop him from at least trying to woo her. But the reason he was now this way was because of her. She had somehow managed to tame the most savage werewolf in existence.

"Fenrir, I'm married," she said with a lack of emotion in her voice as he kissed her cheek. He drew back a bit and looked into her eyes, smirking.

"I know, but can't I just pretend it isn't so for a while? You make me feel so good."

This comment caused her to drop her eyes from his momentarily. "Are you ready to go?" she asked a bit sheepishly and he nodded in reply. She took his hand, looking up into his eyes as he dropped his other hand from her cheek, and lead him out into the hallway.

"So where is Anthony?" Fenrir asked, looking at the other inmates in their cells as they walked towards the exit of the maximum security level. Most of the other prisoners had a life sentence and would die in the cells he now saw them in. Forever trapped in this hell. He considered himself to be lucky. Nineteen years of containment and a massive shift in his personality because of the woman with brown hair and blue eyes allowed him to be free. Without her, he would die here with the rest of them, not knowing the error of his old ways and seeing how he could affect others so harshly. Without her, he would still be the most savage werewolf in existence. Without her, he would never be able to see the light of day again. Without her, his life would never taste this sweet.

"He's waiting for us outside. He didn't want his first impression of you to take place in here," she replied. "He felt that this place would skew his view of you and make you out to be a person that you're not." She paused for just a moment, looking up into his face, and he stopped beside her. "He asks about you a lot, Fenrir, and when he first started asking, I wasn't sure what to tell him. I didn't want my initial fear of you to affect him, so I didn't say much. He wants to know you, to know who you actually are without the opinions of other's describing you to him."

"He sounds like a fine, young man. Like you and Scabior have raised him well."

"We tried our hardest," she said with a little smile as they resumed walking. After a few minutes, they were back on the main floor of the prison, where she led him into a uniform room. He watched her as she searched the shelves, looking for his number. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Even though she was in her auror uniform, she still looked so beautiful.

She pulled a box off of one of the shelves and set it on the table in front of him. After she opened it, she set some of his clothes on the table. "Through the door over there," she motioned to it, "there's a shower. You can wash up in there and I'll get the rest of your things out and accounted for." He nodded and picked the clothes up off of the table and went to the shower.

Water fell in large drops, coming from behind the door, sending the plopping sounds throughout the room as she searched the shelves for anything else that was his. There was nothing out of the ordinary within the shelves. Clothing, wands, pictures of loved ones, a few galleons here and there. The items, while nothing special, told something about each of their owners. After a bit of searching, she stumbled across something she thought she would never find. The box looked like it hadn't been touched in years and she recognized the numbers on it. They were her's when she had imprisoned there. She opened the box to see her old clothes, along with a picture of herself and the man she had loved. A smile lit up her face as she looked at it. In the photograph, she was only twenty-three. She looked so young back then, so innocent. Not stern or cold, but warm and full of love. The man she stood next to in the picture was none other than Sirius Black, and they had been dating for just a few weeks when the picture was taken. But they knew that they were perfect for each other, even though they barely knew each other. Love was all they needed.

That was before her whole existence changed. Before she started making terrible mistakes.

"Thank you for the clothes, Sira," he said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You didn't have to get these for me."

"I thought it would be the right thing to do," she said as she folded the picture and put it into her pocket, turning to face him. "And you look very nice in them." He sat down on a stool, chuckling lightly as she went over to him, running her hand through his damp hair. For once, it wasn't tangled and matted; it was actually soft and smooth. She kept reminding herself of how he used to be. His scarred face with cruel eyes and wild hair, but now, his scars had almost faded completely and his eyes had softened. Once wolfish, now human, she told herself as she started to see their son's resemblance in his face.

"Should we go?" he questioned, looking up into her eyes as she continued to stroke his hair. She nodded slightly, wishing that she had something to say. Her old life was held in his eyes, stirring something within her. She took his hand once again to lead him out of the prison.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A yellowed leaf drifted down from the tall tree above him, lightly settling on the cold, green metal of the bench beside him, as if it was an old friend. His yellow eyes studied it for a while before he reached out and picked it up. He ran his fingers over the veins of the leaf, feeling its glossy smoothness. Soon, he looked up, noting the emptiness of the park around him. For a warm, sunny day, everything seemed cold and dead, like it would never be the same way again.

He sighed, dropping the leaf from his hand. He wondered where they were, if they were coming soon. His nerves ate at him, angry dogs with snapping jaws. The yellow leaf stared up at him, questioning him.

He wasn't ready for this. He thought he was, but he wasn't.

"Anthony," a male voice said, causing him to search for the source of the sound, "you look like you've seen a ghost." Before him was his good friend. He wore a smirk on his lips and a glimmer in his amber eyes.

"Teddy," Anthony replied with a grin as he stood to greet his friend. "It's been a while."

"It hasn't been that long," Teddy countered. "Only a week, at most, and I knew you'd be sulking somewhere before you meet your real father for the first time." Anthony looked down slightly. They knew each other too well. "Anyway, my introverted friend, I wanted to brighten your spirits so you don't taint the splendor of this wonderful park."

"If you haven't noticed, no one's here today," Anthony stated flatly.

"You can still taint the splendor of the park when there's no one in it." Anthony threw his arms around his friend and put him in a headlock, ruffling up his blue hair rapidly. Soon, they were both laughing. "No fair! You have crazy strength and I don't!" Anthony released him, still laughing, and Teddy shoved him roughly, grinning wide.

"Thank you, Teddy," he said as he returned the smile, "you're a great friend, but I'd like to meet my father alone."

"I can stay if you want."

"No, I'll be alright."

"Okay then," Teddy's eyes studied him, "If you insist." He took a couple steps backwards and disappeared with a soft pop.

A second pop came from behind him and he turned to face it.

Two people walked towards him. On the right was his mother, stoic in her auror uniform. He could tell from her eyes that she was conflicted though, like she questioned what she was doing. On the left was the man he had heard much about but had never seen. People told him that he was vicious, that he would maim or kill you the instant he saw you, that he was wild and could never be controlled, that he was an extreme danger to anyone around him. Anthony couldn't tell that by looking at him.

He looked harmless. Not beastly at all.

"Anthony," his mom said as her eyes softened and she lost her composure. She seemed more worried now than he had ever seen her before. "This is Fenrir Greyback, your father." Anthony's yellow eyes met his father's, causing his father to smile.

He wasn't sure what he should do. Should he go greet his father with open arms or should he keep his distance? He barely knew the man before him except he was the reason he was here. Shouldn't he feel some sort of connection to him? Some sort of pull? Or some sort of love for him? But he was the reason he had struggled so much in his life, why he lost his childhood at an early age, and why he had to fight to make a name for himself. He was the son of Fenrir Greyback, and that stigma had hurt him more than once. It was a scar for him.

"Anthony?" his mom whispered tenderly, almost pleading him to say something.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I just don't know what to say."

"I understand," Fenrir stated, nodding lightly. "I don't know what to say either. Nineteen years is quite a long time. A lot can happen in that span." Fenrir dropped his gaze from his son for a brief moment, making it apparent that he, too, was uncomfortable with this. Anthony nodded in agreement. "But I'd like to be able to have the chance to know you. Sira has told me much about you and I think you are a wonderful, young man-."

"Stop," Anthony interrupted as a slight look of shock entered Fenrir's eyes. "Can we please go somewhere else to talk?"

"You two can go home if you want," Sira said. "I need to go to the office and straighten some legal matters out. You're both welcome to come with me as well," She looked between Fenrir and her son, "but you don't have to."

"I'll come with you, Sira," Fenrir stated. "Anthony, do you want to come with us?"

"I think I'll just go home," he said gently. "It's a lot to take in and I just need to think some things through before we talk more." His father nodded, and he thought he saw some sadness in his eyes. Then again, he barely knew the man, so maybe it wasn't sadness at all that he was seeing.

"We'll see you there," Sira said with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood a little bit but failing to do so. With a nod from Anthony, they all disappeared with bitter feelings in their chests.

"Does he not like me?" Fenrir asked. He was looking down at her while she completed some paperwork at her desk.

"I don't think it's that, Fenrir. I think he's just confused and a bit shook up from meeting you." She set the paper on a pile of similar completed forms and pulled another paper from another pile. "I would be too. He's lived all of his life without meeting you and then in one day, in one moment, that all changes. He doesn't know you and you don't know him."

"I want to know him."

"I know you do, but you need to give him time," she stated. She set her quill down and looked up into his eyes. "Just be gentle with him. He's been through a lot."

He sighed and leaned on her desk, placing his hand on the paper she was working on. She put her hand on his as she watched his face carefully. She rarely showed him any affection, only a small smile here and there, maybe a light touch on his arm. She didn't want him to get the wrong impression of her, since her life had changed herself so much. Now she was strictly loyal to the ones she cared about and nothing could sway her from that. But she couldn't help herself. He needed some comfort, some reassurance. He needed to know that this life could be better than the one he had before.

His eyes looked up slowly into hers, a bit of wonder shining behind his. For a man with so much pain and struggle in his life, she didn't understand how dramatically and easily his demeanor changed. When she agreed to the Wizengamot to help him, she doubted it would work, but since it did, there was a possibility that, together, they could help the rest of the werewolves to drop their violent ways. "I don't want him to hate me," he stated softly, defeat in his voice.

"He won't." He sighed, taking her hand and holding it tightly in his. She wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know what to say exactly. Should she comfort him, or should she just give him some advice? Or should she just stay quiet? "Are you going to rejoin your pack?"

He nodded, releasing her hand as he sat down in a chair across from her, still not looking at her. "I'm planning to. I don't want to be a burden on you or Scabior and I should go back and reclaim my position as alpha. Maybe I'll start some reforms and try to prove to them that the wizarding world does care about them."

"You won't be a burden on us and you're welcome to stay with us as long as you'd like," she responded. "At least get comfortable with this life, Fenrir, before going back to the pack. That's a lot of stress to put on yourself without much time to sort it all out and think about what to do next."

Finally, he looked at her. "Why are you so cold, Sira?"

She paused, her blue eyes gazing into his. "What do you mean?"

"You used to be so full of warmth and had a zest for life," he stated. "But now, everything is calculated and measured. Everything from the words you say to the way you walk. There's no life in you. What happened to you?"

"Simply put, life happened. In more detail, I had a child that wasn't my husband's, I had to prove to the world that I deserved a second chance, I had to show that I could be an auror after being a Death Eater, I had to show that I could be trusted, and I had to take the criticisms of a world that looks down on people who do wrong," she explained. "It was difficult to do, but I managed to do it, even though it may have affected me personally. I don't mind that I always have to live up to a certain standard."

"But you don't seem happy anymore, you don't seem like yourself."

"I am happy," she said flatly. "Why would I be anything else?" He sighed and shook his head. "We can go to my house now. I'm done with the paperwork for tonight." She stood up and looked at him; he refused to meet her gaze.

The television was murmuring in the background, some news story that he didn't really care about. He was confused, wondering why he ever agreed to this, wondering why he was so speechless around his actual father. Maybe it was because he was never around when he was little. Maybe it just doesn't seem normal that the man that is his father is not the man he calls his dad. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his brown hair and looked at the television.

"This afternoon, the infamous werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, was released from Azkaban as he has been rehabilitated to the standards of the Wizengamot court. The court stated that Greyback had to be 'civilized' and 'human' to even be considered to be released. The court put Auror Sira Volkov in charge of the werewolf's rehabilitation," the magical news reporter stated. "Our field reporter was able to interview Lark Blackwood, the warden of the prison, as well as Volkov and Greyback."

The screen changed to a young, dark-haired woman who was standing beside Lark. "Are you concerned that Greyback will return to his old ways?" she asked quickly glancing at the other reporters, who were probably talking to his mom and his father.

"There will always be that risk," Lark responded. "This is the first time that anything like this has ever been done so who knows if it will work or not. I trust that Sira has done her job to the best of her ability but now, we just have to wait and see."

"It was stressful at times, yes," his mom said after the screen changed. He could still see her burden on her face. "But it was all worth it. He is actually very kind and caring, but you just have to see past the stereotypes that surround werewolves, especially the ones that surround him. That's the major idea that I believe will make or break this delicate situation, how the general public will treat him and the other werewolves. People are quicker to accept them than what it was in the past, but we still don't accept them as easily as we should. They are just like us and we need to understand that."

"What are you going to do now that you're out of prison?" the reporter asked his father.

"I hope to reconnect with my old pack and help them understand that wizards aren't as cruel towards us as we believed them to be. But first, I need to adjust to all of this. A lot changed in nineteen years, and I'll have to get used to all of that." He laughed, a rough sound but it did hold some happiness in it.

He turned the television off and stood up. "Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?" He turned and looked at Scabior, who just got home from work. He closed the door behind him, looking at his son with concern in his blue-grey eyes.

"Not well," Anthony said. "I'm not sure if meeting my father was the best thing, Dad."

"Why do you say that?" he questioned as he took his jacket off.

"I'm just not sure about him. He's my father and yet he feels like a stranger to me. Aren't I supposed to have some sort of emotional connection to him? Shouldn't I be happy to finally meet him instead of lost and confused about my feelings towards him?"

Scabior sighed as he took a seat on the sofa across from him. "I know this is hard for you, but we all will have to give him a chance. I wouldn't worry too much about everything that has happened and I'd just get to know the type of person he is now. Not the person he was, or the person he will be, but the person he is this exact moment. If you focus on learning that, Anthony, I believe that you will feel better about this situation," he explained.

"Are you ready to meet him again?" Anthony asked as conflict flickered in his dad's eyes.

"No," he stated. "Truthfully, I don't want to meet him again, not after all the things that he's put our family through. I wish I could just get away from him and forget that part of my life that he affected so greatly and I wish that he wouldn't have to ever affect you so greatly ever again. I love you, Anthony, but I hold no love for your father." Anthony nodded slowly, understanding Scabior's grudge towards his father. If anyone was allowed to hate his father, he believed that it would be him. Just look at all the things Fenrir had done to him, all of the pain that he had put him through. It was unfair to Scabior and he had adjusted to life without having to deal with that unfairness.

Scabior took Anthony's long silence as if he had hurt him with the words he had said. "I'm sorry, Anthony," he said softly as he shook his head, "if I offended you."

"You didn't offend me," he responded quickly. "I understand where you're coming from and I know you weren't saying that you wish I didn't exist. If I were in the same situation, I think I'd feel the same."

His dad smiled at his comment, seeming a bit relieved that he didn't take his words as a threat. "When you quieted down, I thought that you were thinking that I didn't want you in my family," he said kindly. "I do want you in the family. You're the son that I always wished to have but never did." Anthony smiled back as the front door opened and his parents walked into the entryway of the house. Scabior's smiled wiped off of his face as he looked at the werewolf and his body tensed, as if ready to react if it was necessary to do so.

Sira gave Fenrir a light smile and went upstairs as he entered the room and shook hands with Scabior. "It's good to see you again," he said with a warm smile and Scabior returned the greeting with a 'warm' smile of his own. From what Anthony could see, it was as half-hearted as he had ever seen a smile before. Fenrir sat down in a chair across from them.

"So what do you do, Scabior?" his father asked, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.

"I work in Gringotts," he replied. "I've started to do some of the banking here in the last couple of years. I used to just work security for them."

"Do you have a job, Anthony?"

"Not yet," Anthony answered. "I just doing some odd jobs here and there before I apply to be an auror."

"Haven't you been out of Hogwarts for a couple of years now?" Anthony nodded and gave him a small smile, trying to show that he did enjoy talking to him, even though it was awkward.

"Yeah, I was waiting for my girlfriend to get out of school before I went to training. She's a couple of years younger than I am," he said as he continued to smile. "Her name is Burgundy Blackwood."

"Lark Blackwood's daughter?" his father questioned and he answered with a nod.

"Lark's pretty protective of her," Anthony joked, causing Fenrir to let out a light, but raspy laugh.

"I can see why," he teased with a wink. Anthony laughed, and it suddenly became easier to talk to his father. Maybe it was just some basic level of understanding he needed to connect with him, to accept him. Sira walked down the stairs, no longer in her auror uniform and just in a blouse with a pair of jeans, and came into the room. She sat down next to Scabior and rested her head gently on his shoulder as Scabior put his arm around her. He saw a bit of the happiness wipe off his father's face as he looked at Sira and Scabior, like some hope was totally lost but he knew it wouldn't have been possible in the first place.

"Do you guys want to go out to eat?" she asked with a smile. "It's your decision."

"That's alright with me," Scabior said and both Fenrir and Anthony nodded.

"I better go tell Izzy that we're going and that she can come if she wants," Sira said as she stood.

"Mom, she's not here. She went on a date with her boyfriend."

"Again?" Sira said with a bit of irritation in her voice. "I swear that girl goes on more dates than what is necessary. I'll have to have a talk with her when she gets home."

"Don't let it bother out too much, lovely," Scabior said, still with a half-hearted smile on his face. "This is supposed to be a fun time, not a stressful one." She nodded as she let out a sigh.

"You're right," she said with a bit of a sigh. She looked at Anthony and Fenrir as a little bit of a smile grew on her lips. "You can choose were we go eat since it is you two's special day." Anthony nodded and stood up, which caused his father to stand up beside him. Sira took Fenrir's hand gently as well as Scabior's, leaving Anthony to take his father's hand. He paused for a moment, and then took it, receiving a bit of a squeeze from him. His father closed his eyes momentarily as he let out a deep breath. Maybe he was his father's son after all.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"That was a fun night," Sira said with a small smile as she went into her bedroom, followed closely by Scabior. He nodded slightly, trying to agree with her statement even though he didn't believe that it was a 'fun' night. Actually, he thought it was awful. He saw the way that Fenrir looked at her and his wife seemed oblivious to it, like there never had been any feeling, good or bad, that had existed between them.

"It was alright," he said as he sat down on the bed to take his shoes off. Sira had gone into the bathroom to get ready for bed, leaving Scabior with some time to think about what had happened. It really wasn't anything major. He shouldn't have behaved the way that he had, and yet, it felt right that he did. It felt that he was protecting her. Something he hadn't been able to do in years. She never needed his protection after the war because she learned how to protect herself. It made him feel like there was no use for him in her life anymore.

When she came out of the bathroom, he was already changed and laying down in their bed. She laid down next to him, cuddling up to his body. A warm smile spread across her lips as she looked up into his eyes. Gently, he kissed her on the cheek, causing her to giggle softly. She kissed him tenderly as she cupped his face in her hands. An unwanted feeling turned his stomach, causing him to pull away slightly. "Is everything alright?" she asked in a whisper, as her hands began to rub his chest gently.

"I'm just not feeling like it right now, lovely," he admitted, hoping not to upset her. They hadn't done anything intimate in quite a while, maybe a few weeks or months.

Her smile diminished slightly and so did the brightness of her eyes. "Oh," she breathed as she moved away from him a bit.

"Tomorrow, I promise." She nodded and rolled over so that she was no longer facing him. He pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her, trying to give her a little bit of comfort. She couldn't feel it though. "Good night," he whispered as he kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied. As his breathing became deeper, she couldn't help herself. She felt that something in their relationship was missing, that her life had become dictated by hollow words and empty promises. Love was just a word they'd recite to each other. There no longer was a feeling behind it. With her growing thoughts, her fears rose along with them and the tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Had she fallen out of love with him?

After several hours of silent sleeplessness, she went downstairs and into the kitchen. Scabior slept easily, which seemed like a foreign thing to her that night. For her, it had never been so easy to stay awake, but her racing mind prevented her from slumber. It was always pestering her. She hoped that a little movement and a little glass of water could ease her mind and settle it just enough so she could get some rest.

When she reached the kitchen, she could see a figure of a man standing on the back porch, looking out into the night. She quickly poured herself a glass of water and went to outside.

Outside, the night was cold and still, the waning full moon looking down on them, providing much needed light. She took a sip of water and stood by the man, who looked at her with a question in his yellow eyes. "Hi," she said gently, as if trying not to break the fragile night. "Are you okay?"

He gave her a quick nod as he returned to studying the night. "I just don't want this day to end," he stated tenderly. "It's been wonderful and overwhelming and it continues to amaze me." He paused for a while, gazing at the moon and the stars while lost in a thought. "I never thought I would be able to see the night sky again." The moon had been full a couple nights ago, a cold orb in the fall sky. He let out a gentle sigh as she took another sip of water. "What has been worrying you?" he asked, halfway catching her off-guard.

"It's nothing really," she lied. She wasn't going to tell him that she was concerned that her marriage to Scabior was going wrong. That wasn't any of his business, and yet, as she looked into his eyes, she wondered if it was actually his business. She had helped him so much and together, they had influenced each other to become better people. Could he read her now like she could read him? Was she an open book to him, who was just waiting to be read? She wondered if it were so. Maybe she would finally accept the fact that he did have feelings for her and that she still had some feelings for him.

_No,_ she thought, _I'm married to another man. I don't have feelings for him._

"Sira?"

"I'm alright," she replied. "I just couldn't sleep."

He sighed, knowing that she wouldn't tell him any more information than what she saw necessary to give him. He knew that she wasn't telling the whole truth though. "Are you cold?" he asked as he sat down on the wicker loveseat. She sat down next to him with a slight nod and he pulled a blanket off of the arm of one of the chairs. She wrapped it around herself and tucked her knees up into her chest. Right now, she looked so young and vulnerable. She looked like her structured world was falling down around her and she had no idea what to do. The worry in her beautiful, blue eyes told him that.

She was afraid.

After a while, her eyes started to grow heavy and it became harder and harder for her to stay awake. Unknowingly, she rested her head on his shoulder as her lack of sleep caught up with her. He put his arms around her and held her close when she fell asleep, imagining what it would be like to be able to hold her every night. To be able to wake up to see her face in the morning. To know that he was loved by the person he was in love with.

He knew it could be more than a dream.

After a while, he too fell asleep, still holding her in his arms.

Three knocks on the door were soon followed by the creaking of the hinges. A blonde haired girl a couple of years younger than him grinned up at him and rapidly pulled him into a tight hug. He chuckled as he hugged her back, holding her tightly. "I missed you," she whispered softly.

"I missed you too," he said, the grin still on his face, "but it's only been a couple of days."

She gave him a warm, playful smile as she rolled her eyes. "Well, I still can miss you if it's only been a few days. Anyway, how are you?"

"I've been good. I'm just trying to get used to the fact that my father isn't a complete stranger anymore." She took his hand and led him into the living room. "He's actually really nice and knowledgeable about a lot of issues and things." He sat down on the sofa and she cuddled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm pretty surprised." He said with a smile.

"That's great, Anthony," she said tenderly. "I'm happy for you."

"How are you?" he asked, noting how short she was being with him, like he wasn't caring enough about her or that she didn't care about him meeting his father. He didn't know which one it was.

"I'm fine," she sighed. "Dad has been saying rude things about your father though. He doesn't want me to be dating you anymore because of him being out of Azkaban. I think he reckons that Fenrir won't be successful with this 'rehabilitation' that your mom has done and that he'll hurt me if I'm around you accidently… or purposefully."

Anthony nodded, somehow knowing that Mr. Blackwood would do something like this. "I understand where he's coming from. If it were my daughter, I'd probably be trying to do the same thing. I'd be protecting her."

Burgundy dropped her voice to a whisper. "You know that Dad is home, right?"

He nodded as a soft smile grew on his lips. "I figured so," he replied as she let out a quiet giggle.

"Oh, Anthony, you always try to stay on good terms with my father, even though he pretty much hates you."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked as he kissed her cheek. "Would you like to meet my father?" he asked discreetly into her ear. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

She bit her lower lip as she thought. She wasn't sure if that was the best idea, especially since the words her father said against him had some truth to them. Even though Greyback was different now, who knows if he would revert to his old way? Who knows if he could still be a killer like he was nineteen years ago? She never saw Anthony as a danger to her, but his father was an entirely different story. "Okay," she said rapidly as if she was trying to get it over with as soon as possible. He smiled and hugged her, and she hugged him back, trying to relax a little in his arms.

"Hey, Anthony," Calypso Blackwood said as walked into the room, "you better move away from her. Lark is coming." He nodded and gave a bit of space between Burgundy and himself as Cal took a seat across from them. She had always been extremely kind to him, treating him as if he was her own son. He respected her for that, and that she had a difficult life like his mom had and that she had made the best out of it as she could. Her ice blue eyes looked to Lark as he entered the room, who seemed stressed and irritated.

"How's your father, Anthony?" he asked as he sat down next to his wife and looked him straight in the eye. His emerald eyes held some harshness to them, an edge.

"He's doing well, Mr. Blackwood," he said as he felt Burgundy's eyes watching him intently, urging him to not say the wrong thing. "He hasn't acted any different than the rest of us. He seems pretty normal."

Lark nodded, rubbing his hand before leaning back in his seat. "I did some research on this type of situation and they say that the first three days is one of the most critical periods, after that, things get easier for them. But what I'm concerned with is that no one has tried anything like this before. Who knows if it will work or not?" Anthony knew that Lark was trying to be civil to him, but the look in his eyes still told him what he always had said. Stay away from my daughter. "In an instant, he could be the most savage werewolf in existence again." He paused briefly, considering the idea. "I wouldn't feel guilty about throwing him back into a cell. Actually, I'd be glad. One less criminal to deal with and the world needs less of them."

Some spark within Anthony flared, but he held his retort back. It would only make the fragile respect they had for each other shatter into a million pieces.

"My mom was a criminal, and so were my father and my dad," he said flatly, just to see what Lark would do but trying not to offend him.

"Yes, but they all were pardoned," he explained, the edge slightly sharpening in his voice.

"So won't you agree that they aren't criminals now?"

"They aren't criminals now, but they can become one at any moment," Lark stated. "Once they break the law, they're criminals once again." Anthony nodded, knowing not to say anymore. He just wanted Lark to understand that not everyone who has done a criminal act is a criminal forever. People can change. "Tell your mother that I'll be coming to check on Greyback tomorrow." Lark stood and left the room, leaving only the three of them there.

"You have guts, Anthony," Cal said with a grin. "I don't think anyone else would ever dare to reason with Lark the way you always do. You must get that from your mother." She sighed with a little smirk. "She didn't used to be so uptight, but I guess that's what being an auror does to you. It makes you abide by honor and code, because that is the moral and just thing to do. Your mother always did care about her honor though, even when she said that she didn't, and I can also see that trait in you. It's a good trait to have, but don't let your longing for honor blind you. Honor can make you brave, but it can also make you a fool. And no one wants to be a fool."

He considered her words for a while. She was right about honor, and right about his mother being uptight, but what he wasn't sure if his mother was a fool. Or if even he was a fool. He didn't believe so, but could it be possible? "Do you think we are fools?" he asked calmly, just asking a question, not picking a fight.

"I don't think you're a fool," she stated, "but your mother has started to act foolish. It's like her life revolves around honor and that's all that matters to her. There is no fun in life to her, it's all just work and dedication to that honor. I worry about her. I worry that she will never be able to truly live while she strictly abides by that code to which she so desperately clings." She stood up, sighing a bit. "I better go make sure Lark is alright." She left the room, allowing him to be alone with his girlfriend. He looked into her green eyes and smiled warmly, hoping that she was alright with all of this. He sure wasn't. The confidence that he had in himself and his father had faded a bit, putting a pressure on him. And his assurance that his mother was always doing what was best faded as well.

He felt that he would have a lot of things to reconsider in the days ahead of him.

"Anthony," Burgundy said gently, pulling him from his thoughts. "Don't let what my parents said bother you. You know how they are. Always stating their opinions without worrying what effect they may have on other people."

"They may be right about this," he replied, his smile falling off of his lips. "About my family."

She took his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. She knew how worried he was. "Listen, it's going to be alright. There's no need to worry." He nodded slowly, not entirely agreeing with her, but enough to make both of them feel better. He figured he just needed to keep hope in his family, and in himself. "I'm sure you'll be okay and your father and your mother will too."

He nodded and held her close, hoping that she would be right. Hoping that his world wasn't going to be completely changing. He liked his life the way it was, he truly did enjoy it, but he felt that something was going to happen, something that would change everything. He didn't want it to happen, but he felt like he needed to be ready for it. Somehow.

He just didn't understand why he felt that way in the first place.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The knocks on the door were heavy and staccato, causing her to set her book aside as she stood to go answer it. Anthony and Fenrir were in the other room talking and she didn't want to disturb them. She also halfway felt that it was best for her to keep her distance from Fenrir, at least while Scabior was around. She could see that he didn't like her around him, but she felt that he didn't understand that it was her job to be with Fenrir. She could only help him by being there with him and for him. It wasn't like she was going to leave him just because Fenrir had feelings for her. She knew that no matter what, she still loved her husband, and the slight feelings she did have for Fenrir were nowhere near as strong as the way she felt about Scabior.

She knew Scabior considered Fenrir as a threat to their marriage, that he was going to convince her that he was the better man. But in her eyes, Scabior still was the better man. He was there for her in her darkest hours, supporting her and loving her. He was a person she could confide in, a person she didn't have to hide anything from. She loved him so much when they first started dating and those feelings are still there, but what puzzled her was what had changed between them.

Lately, her husband seemed uninterested in her. He wouldn't really talk to her as much and if he did, the conversation was superficial, lacking the depth it once had. Then again, he did work long hours at Gringotts and was never home until later in the evenings. He was barely there, and she had to admit, with being an auror, she wasn't home much herself until Fenrir was released.

Had their adult lives changed them that much? Had they became people they didn't want to be? She wasn't sure. She opened the door.

"Hey, Sira," Lark Blackwood said as he gave her a little, uneasy smile. "I came to see how Fenrir is doing. I hope Anthony told you that I would be stopping by today."

"Yes, he did," she replied as she returned the smile. "I'll show you where they are." He stepped into the house and she closed the door behind him.

"Sira, I first need to know your honest opinion," he whispered quickly as he looked her directly in the eyes, "do you think that this is working?"

"I think so," she stated with a nod. "He's responding well and is getting used to this new life. He seemed overwhelmed at first, but he seems like he's settling in."

"Good." Sira nodded once again in agreement and lead him to the other room. Fenrir and Anthony looked at them as they walked into the room, ending their conversation. "It's good to see you again, Fenrir," Lark said as he took a seat across from them. "How have you been doing so far?"

"I've been fine, really," Fenrir replied kindly. "It's taken a little bit of time to get used to everything, but I think I'm finally starting to get used to this. Everything is just so new, and there is a lot that I still need to learn."

"No urges to kill anyone?" Lark asked, a bit rudely, causing Sira to look down and Fenrir's jaw to tighten. No matter how many times they would talk, no matter how drastically his disposition would change, Lark would always ask him these kinds of questions.

"No," Fenrir stated with a tight jaw.

"Great." Lark looked at Sira. "The Ministry is wanting a progress report by the end of the week. We'll need to get together sometime to work on it."

"I'm available whenever you are, just tell me when you want me to come and work on it with you." Lark nodded to her comment and left the room, a few seconds later, the sound of the front door opening and closing came into the room. Fenrir stood up, noticeably aggravated, and slammed his hand hard against the wall.

"Why does he always ask that?" he barked snappily, his rage glinting in his yellow eyes. Sira looked at him and shrugged, knowing that she had to allow him time to calm himself down.

"He just doesn't believe that you can change, Fenrir," she explained, "and many people don't believe that either. Don't listen to him and don't let the questions he asks you bother you. He's _trying_ to get you angry, he's trying to get you to do something wrong, so he can just lock you up again and not have to deal with you. He doesn't know what it's like. He doesn't know what it's like to be on the other side of the cell door."

"Well, I guess it worked because I'm pissed. I'm sick and tired of dealing with his bullshit." He took his hand off the wall as he continued to look at her. Anthony wasn't surprised that his father could get this angry but he wasn't expecting the amount of anger he could suddenly have. It was just like turning a light switch on and off. Instantaneous.

But the anger in Fenrir's eyes didn't seem to go away.

"Fenrir," his mother said calmly, "can I talk to you in private?" He nodded with anger still in his eyes as she walked out of the room and into the hallway. He followed her closely as she opened up the front door and stepped outside. He closed the door behind them as she walked out onto the front law, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. He was still irritated, but he was more curious now than anything else. _What in the world is she doing? _he asked himself. She turned to face him as he stepped off of the front porch. "Attack me," she said, looking him dead in the eyes as her face turned emotionless. "Go on, attack me."

"I can't," he said, the rage he felt towards Lark still in his eyes.

"Attack me!" she shouted at him, a spark of fury shinning in hers.

"No, Sira, I won't!" With his answer, she put her chin up a little higher, making her look more pompous.

"Is that so?" she questioned as a puzzled look covered his face. She spun around and took off at a sprint to the woods beside the house.

"Hey!" he shouted after her, breaking out into a run. She didn't stop as she broke through the tree line, racing through the underbrush. Nothing seemed to slow her down, not the fallen logs, not the brambles, nothing. She just kept going and he was having trouble keeping up.

A smile formed on her lips as she skipped over a shallow stream and glanced behind her, taunting him to go faster. He did so and her smile turned into a grin. They continued to run as he started to catch up to her. He was only a few feet behind her and he reached for her wrist. His breathing was hard and he didn't know if he could run any longer. He felt like he was about to collapse. He urged himself forward and caught her wrist, pulling both of them to a stop.

He dropped to the ground and laid there, face down in the grass as she knelt down beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. It felt like he would never be able to. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, her smile no longer on her lips.

"Yeah," he mumbled, panting. She rubbed his shoulder gently as he closed his eyes. His heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest and his muscles felt like rubber, but as he was able to breathe again, a rush came over him. He felt great. He felt alive. He felt that nothing bad could even happen.

It was a wonderful feeling.

Slowly, he sat up and looked at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright. Brighter than what he had seen them in years. She, too, seemed alive. A snapshot of her old self. The woman he had fallen in love with. "How are you feeling?" she questioned, a small smile forming on her lips as she spoke.

"I'm feeling great." He couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. Or that his hands went up and touched her face, drawing her closer to him. As soon as he did so, her smile disappeared and conflict entered her eyes. He just needed her near him, to hold her close.

"Fenrir, I can't," she stated quickly as she moved away from him. "It's not right. I'd be betraying my husband and I can't do that." He sighed as he looked down at the ground, wishing that she wouldn't be so blind.

"You can't see what he's done to you, and what you've done to yourself. You don't understand how the impact your career and your husband have changed who you are as a person. There is no war in this day and age, Sira, but you still act like it's going on. Your calculated moves are that of a general's and your risks are measured and if they don't play in your favor, you don't take them. Because of this, you built a wall around yourself, allowing only what you want others to see to be shown. You don't understand yourself," he explained, "but I do. I essentially did the same thing as you, except in a more violent way. I hid away my humanity for savagery and it took years and a lot of time to be comfortable with my humanity again. It took someone who cared about me to get it back. It took you.

"Why can't you see that I'm trying to help you like you helped me? All I want is for you to be yourself again, and not have to worry that someone won't like you because of what you did in the past." She looked down at the grass, never looking up at him. "I understand how you feel, I understand that you're not as happy with your life as you thought you would be. I just want to help you be happy again."

She didn't say a word, she just kept looking at the grass. He could see that her mind was racing, like she didn't want him to be right. He felt like he was, and he hoped she would understand. He wasn't asking her to leave the life she had to be with him, even though he wished she would, he just wanted her to be happy with the life she did have and not have to worry so much. She looked up at him and was about to say something.

A scream cut through the forest, chilling them both.

They stood instantly and Sira drew her wand. They headed towards the scream, breaking out into a run. As they drew closer, the scream faded, but they could soon see people in a clearing just a few yards away. Most of them were men, but a few were women, all looking to be in their mid-twenties. One of them, a woman, was on the ground, bruises blooming on her skin and blood coming out from her wounds.

One of the men stood over her, laughing cruelly as he bent down and dragged her to her feet. His face was right in hers, even though he was much taller than she was. "This is what you get," he stated evilly. "You shouldn't have went against the pack." His lips curled up into a snarling grin as Sira stepped into the clearing, her wand steadied on him.

"That's enough," she ordered, "Let her go."

The man looked at her, smirking. "Why in the hell would I do that? This is none of your business, even if you are an auror. Magical Law doesn't count within the pack so run along before something bad happens to you." He let out a chuckle. "Wouldn't want the wizards to hear that one of their own was killed by a werewolf… or worse." Fenrir stepped out of the woods behind her and calmly stood beside her, looking at the man.

"Listen to her, Kael," he said evenly. "Let her go." Kael automatically let her go, as the eyes of all of the people in the clearing widened with their disbelief. Kael's smile turned less evil and more welcoming as he approached them.

"I heard rumors but I didn't believe them to be true. You're out of Azkaban." Sira kept her wand aimed at him, not trusting his sudden shift from vehemence to serenity. The injured woman lay on the ground, barely moving. Sira hoped that nothing else would happen to her. "Will you be reclaiming alpha soon?" Kael asked and she noticed a flicker of disgust in his eye. He must have been acting as the leader of the pack while Fenrir was incarcerated.

"Yes I will," he replied, straightening his stance and making Kael seem like a child in his presence. "First, there are things that must be taken care of before I return completely, which will take some time."

"Of course," Kael agreed, just before looking at Sira, as the glint of disgust turned into arrogance. "Sira Volkov, my, you're as pretty as they as you are. Fenrir is lucky to have a mate like you in his life."

"She's not my mate," Fenrir corrected before Sira could say anything, which caused Kael's eyes to lighten up.

"Is that so?" His brown eyes looked into her eyes. "Well that's most unfortunate indeed." He smiled his cruel, little, cocky smile and Sira felt the urge to punch him in the face, a feeling she hadn't had about a person in a long time. She didn't like him. Every fiber of her being told her so. "You're still an auror, Sira. Am I correct?"

"I've been one for over eighteen years, Kael," she stated. "Nothing will change that." Her comment caused his smile to widen into a grin.

"What's it like to be the law's bitch? I bet it would be absolutely awful. Always having to follow rules, losing yourself to some non-living thing that doesn't even exist, and even worse, _believing_ in that theory." He shook his head. "Must be a hard life to live indeed."

"That's enough, Kael," Fenrir said in a bit of a snarl, causing Kael to take a few steps back from her. "Sira and I have more important matters to attend to than you interrogating her about working as an auror. Good day." Fenrir took Sira by the wrist and lead her back into the woods. She looked into his eyes. There was concern in them, like a fear that the situation was worse than he had expected. Once they were a good distance away, he stopped and looked at her. "Sira, I'm afraid I can't get through to the pack without your help."

She nodded in agreement, knowing that he would probably ask her this. "You don't have to go back to them, you know," she stated, just putting that option out there to be considered.

"I fear that by not helping them, they will become more dangerous than what I left them as. I was the one who made them the way they are. I am the reason they hold so much hate towards the wizards. I should be the one that rights this wrong."

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, "I'll help you, but I have to ask the Ministry to make sure that it's alright. If I do this, they'll be short an auror for quite a while." Truthfully, she was glad she could help Fenrir, but she didn't want to. All she kept thinking about was how Kael sadistically looked at her. He gave her the chills, reminding her of how she felt when she first met Lord Voldemort. She knew he was pure evil.

He knew he shouldn't have come here, but he just had to keep coming back. He needed to feel whole, like his life had a purpose.

That his wife wasn't more devoted to her morals than to him.

He should have discussed his feelings with her a long time ago, but instead, he just tried to cover them up while he was around her, and then be the man he felt he should be somewhere else. He loved his wife, but sometimes love just wasn't enough for him. That's why for the last five years, he'd been coming here.

He knocked on the door and it soon opened, revealing a woman with black hair and blue eyes. She grinned when her eyes met his. "Well, hello," she said in a sultry voice. "I must be a special person this week." She ushered him into the house and closed the door behind him. "What can I do for you today? Looking for a quick pick-me-up?" she asked as she came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders, running her lips down the side of his neck as she smiled.

"No, I just need to talk today," he said. She motioned him to the sofa and he took and seat. She sat down next to him, and she started to rub his chest again.

"What do you need to talk about? The wife not giving you what you need?" she questioned.

"No, it's not that," he replied with a sigh. "She's been spending all of her time with Greyback and she hasn't been home much at all. I fear that our marriage is going to fall apart."

"And it wouldn't if she found out about some of the things we do?" she asked. "Look, Scabior, you and I both know that your fragile marriage can't withstand a scandal like this. I told you multiple times. I've even kicked you out but you keep coming back because your wife would rather be working than be sleeping with you. Face it, you don't want her like you used to. And once she finds out that you're been coming and seeing me, your marriage is over. Those morals won't allow for a cheater in her house, especially one that having been dishonest to her and her marriage for a half of a decade."

"I don't want to lose her," he admitted.

"Then stop coming here," she said as she stood up. "Leave. Before I force you out." She pointed to the door and he sighed, standing up and walking to the door. He opened it and walked out of the house, into the cold, autumn night.

"Hey, you said you wanted to speak with me?" Anthony asked his father, which his father nodded in reply.

"Let's take a walk," he said. "I think some air would be good for both of us." Anthony opened the front door for his father and they both went out into the night. After stepping off of the porch, they walked down the lane that headed towards the house, back to the main road. "I'm not sure if your mother told you this or not, but today, we met my old pack accidently and I told them that sometime soon I will reclaiming my place as alpha. But the problem is I'm concerned about the severity of the behavior my pack has been showing towards each other and their dislike of the wizards. I asked your mom if she would help me with helping the pack, and she agreed to as long as the Ministry would approve her working with the pack and I.

"Also, I wanted to offer you something, Anthony. I've enjoyed getting to know you and being able to call you my son and I would like to be able to get to know you even more. You don't have to decide on this right now but, if you'd like, you can come live with me for a while. You don't have to associate yourself with the pack or anything of that sort. You don't even have to be a werewolf. And you can come and go as you please. I just would like to be able to spend more time with you, and I don't think I will be able to do that as much when I go back to my pack."

Anthony walked with his father in silence, trying to think this offer through. He came up with more questions and concerns than anything else. He didn't even really know what to even think of this. He wanted to be closer to his father but he didn't know if going into the pack was a good idea for him, werewolf or not. Wouldn't it mess up some of his plans? Wouldn't it strain his relationship with Burgundy? But then again, it wouldn't be permanent. He could come and go as he pleased. The idea of learning and this new, small adventure excited him, but it didn't ease his mind.

"I feel that I rarely give you a straight answer," Anthony replied with a warm smile on his face and conflict in his yellow eyes, "but is it okay if I think about it? I want to spend more time with you too, but I'm just not sure how it will all work out. Is it safe for a wizard to spend time in a pack that hates them? That's one of my main concerns."

His father smirked and chuckled lightly. "You and your mother, you're both so analytical. I don't think it would be safe for other wizards to spend to time with the pack, but you're not like the other wizards. Werewolf or not, you're my son, and the pack will respect that. And if not, they'll have to answer to me."

"Okay," he replied. "That makes me feel a bit better."

"You don't have to decide tonight, Anthony. I can wait. It's not like I'm leaving for the pack tomorrow. In a few days' time, yes, but tomorrow, no. I just wanted to ask you before I had to go." Anthony nodded, causing his father to smile as they turned around and walked back towards the house.

"Burgundy wants me to go see her tomorrow, before bring her back here to meet you," Anthony stated as he remember that he needed to tell his father that. Sometimes, things would just slip his mind until it was absolutely necessary for them to be told. He guessed that it was a bit of a curse that went along with having an overactive mind.

"I'm surprised Lark is even allowing her to come over with me around," Fenrir stated with a small, rough laugh and a huge smile.

"He's not," Anthony admitted. "Cal is letting her come. Lark said that he'll throw me in Azkaban if he finds out that she did come and meet you."

"By the way you say that, it seems that you get that threat a lot."

"I do, but it's not as startling after the hundredth time," Anthony replied jokingly with a smirk. His father laughed loudly and he couldn't resist laughing along with him. That's the thing he enjoyed the most about his father, that no matter what, they could laugh about life. It was one of the things that he loved most about his father.

They climbed the stairs up to the porch as Anthony began to realize something. This man was more like him than he had ever known. He was no longer a stranger in his eyes, or a name without a face. He was a person. He was real. He was his father.

Nothing could ever change that.

Fenrir opened the door and was about to walk into the house, when Anthony suddenly felt like a child again. "Hey, dad," he said warmly, causing Fenrir to turn around and look at him. He looked stunned, surprised that his son had called him 'dad.' He never thought that he would ever be able to do that.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Anthony admitted, looking at him with his realization in his eyes. Fenrir smiled as his eyes lit up with joy.

"I love you too, son."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Harry," Sira said with a light smile as she knocked on the open door to his office, "can I talk to you?" She was already halfway in the door and he didn't have anyone else in his office. It was just him and his paperwork. Lately, it seemed that all of the aurors were consumed by paperwork.

"Sure, come on in," he said with a smile as he pushed the papers to the side of his desk, looking at her gratefully for giving him a reason to take a break for a little while. She enjoyed working for him, even though it was a little awkward at times. The age difference was one of the main reasons for the awkwardness but another reason was that they had experienced so much during the war from opposite sides.

"Thanks," she said as she sat down across from him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. Just enjoying all this paperwork," he joked sarcastically.

"That's what happens when it's slow," she stated with a shrug. "We need something big to come up so we can get away from it."

"I couldn't agree more. What do you need to talk to me about?" he asked as he leaned back a bit in his chair.

"Fenrir wishes to go back to his former pack to try to see if he can convince them that the old ways that he had them follow are wrong," she explained, "but he fears that he won't be able to get through to them. He asked me to help him, because of the condition of the pack, but I told him that I would have to ask you about it because it would mean that I would have to be taking a lot of time off work. So, I'm here to ask if I can go help him help the pack."

"I don't really see a problem with it, Sira," he replied honestly. "We're not that busy right now and he is your obligation to the Ministry."

"I just wanted to be sure. I didn't want to leave you short-handed if something did occur and you needed my help." He nodded, agreeing with her concern.

"I understand," he stated. "This is off topic but does Anthony still want to be an auror?"

"Yes, I think so. Why do you ask?"

"He hasn't sent in his application yet. I know he wanted to wait a couple of years after leaving Hogwarts, but I could have sworn that he said he was going to apply this year the last time I spoke with him."

"I think he was going to wait another year," she said. "I think he still believes that he is not ready to apply." Her comment caused Harry to laugh.

"What makes him not think he's ready? He's been ready for the last few years," Harry stated as he smiled. "Well, if he doesn't think he'll be applying this year, tell him that I do have a job for him if he wants one. It will be like he's an auror, but he won't be able to go out into the field or do any of the more interesting things that we get to do. It'll be the start of his career in this office. He'll get to learn the ropes. But he won't have much fun while doing it."

"Let me guess," she said with a soft smile. "You want to hire him to do your paperwork for you."

"He'll get paid well for it, and I may just consider him to be my favorite person in the office," he replied with a grin.

"Alright, well I'll tell him to come talk to you again." She stood up from her seat. "Thanks, Harry."

"It's no problem." She left his office and returned to hers, to see Fenrir still there, waiting for her to be done.

"Hey," she said softly. He looked at her, his question entering his yellow eyes.

"What did he say?" he asked, looking concerned that he would have to rehabilitate his pack by himself and that his pack would retaliate against him.

"I can help you," she replied on a light breath. "So when do you want to go back?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?" he questioned. "It's been about a week since we saw them and I don't want to wait too long."

"I don't think it is," she answered. "Fenrir, I do have something to tell you though, and I'm not sure that you will like it." He looked at her as puzzlement covered his face and a glint of concern shinned in his eyes. "We need to go to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to get you registered as Alpha of the pack."

He sighed, shaking his head a bit. "I don't want to."

"It's the law, you have to," she stressed, her eyes almost begging him to understand.

"No I don't, Sira," he retorted. "I don't care if the Ministry knows that I'm a werewolf, I don't care if they even know that I'm Alpha of my pack, but what I do care about is what will happen if my pack finds out that I'm following the orders of the Ministry. How many years did I fight the Ministry? How many years did I preach to them that wizards could never be trusted? I just can't fall back on those words, even if I don't believe in them anymore, without at least telling my pack what I have discovered. It would make me a target. They wouldn't believe anything that I would tell them. They would have no trust in me. They may even attack me for going against them."

She looked down to the floor, knowing that he was right even if she wanted him to be wrong this one time. "Can we please at least go talk to the Head of the Department about this? Maybe he can work something out with you."

"Alright," he said, still not seeming entirely sure that it was the best idea. He stood up as she left the room, heading out of the office and into the hallway. It wasn't a far walk to get from the Auror Office to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It only took about five minutes, but Fenrir grew more and more nervous with each step. He didn't want this to be exposed to his pack if he would have to register.

She noted his stress as he spread across his face, dulling his eyes, as she led him to the Head of the Department's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a male voice said from within, and she opened the door and entered the room with Fenrir. The Head of the Department had dark-brown hair and brown eyes that where glinted with gold, which looked at them with a welcoming warmth, and freckles that covered his cheekbones. He was tall, reaching around six feet, and had a strong and slightly-muscled build. His name was Arian Moon, and he had claimed fame with his work, studying werewolves. "What can I do for you?"

"Fenrir was wondering if he absolutely had to register as Alpha of his pack," she stated as they all took their seats.

"Of course," Arian replied, "it's in the new Code of Conduct." He pulled a desk drawer open and thumbed through the files before pulling out a piece of paper and sat it before Fenrir. Fenrir picked it up and looked at the paper, which read:

'LAW OF CONDUCT REGARDING WEREWOLF PACKS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH WIZARDKIND

Article 1: Regarding leadership of werewolf pack, this question must be resolved within the members of the pack by a consensus, and after that the position of Alpha must be considered beyond questioning, unless one of the following occur:

a) The Alpha no longer attends to the needs of the pack. In this case a new consensus must be reached to appoint a successor.

b) The Alpha is killed or somehow incapacitated. In the first case the Alpha must leave a sort of will appointing a permanent successor, and in the second case the Alpha himself must appoint a temporary replacement to carry out the pack's needs and activities until the Alpha recovers.

c) In the eventuality the Alpha is required to leave the pack for a long time, he must appoint a replacement as per cited in the situation above. If this absence is due to imprisonment, the pack will have to reach a consensus.

Art. 2: In the eventuality a werewolf wished to leave the pack permanently to conform to society, the transition must be overseen by both the pack's Alpha and a member of the Beast Division of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. After the transition is complete, the werewolf in question must remain untouched by the members of the referred pack under severe penalty.

Art. 3: All packs, pack territories and respective Alphas must be registered in the Beast Division of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Eventual changes in these three aspects must as well be announced beforehand.

Art. 4: In the eventuality of a conflict between two or more packs over a single area, the packs will have to divide it equally between them, each occupying a portion of it (a half each, a third each, and so on.)

Art. 5: In the eventuality a werewolf attacks a person, he or she will have to meet one of the two conditions:

a) If the attack was during the full moon, the attacker will be condemned to twelve years in Azkaban.

b) If the attack was during any other night, the attacker will be condemned to five years in Azkaban.

Either way, the time of imprisonment can be shortened if good behavior is shown.'

"This is ridiculous," Fenrir stated. "You can't expect the packs to accept these terms. Being condemned for twelve years in Azkaban for an attack during the full moon that could have been an accident? It seems biased against my kind."

"It's not, Fenrir," Arian stressed, noting that he was slightly angering him, especially from the look that Sira was giving him. "It's just a safe guard for the werewolves who do intend to attack during the full moon, not for the accidents that may occur. That's why the sentence can be shortened for good behavior."

"You should make it that the attacker will be sentenced accordingly for the nature of the attack, and whether it was intentional or not."

"The Department will take that into consideration," Arian replied with a slight nod. "Now, back to business, you will have to register as the Alpha of your pack."

"Will you be making this information public?" Fenrir asked, still a bit irritated about the law.

"No, only the Ministry will know this information." Arian pulled out another sheet of paper and handed it to Fenrir with a quill. "Sign on the line and you will officially be Alpha of your pack," he stated, causing Fenrir to sigh. Quickly, he signed it and handed it back as Sira watched him, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She could see how broken up he was about all of these rules and regulations, and how much he resented them, but didn't he had to follow them to be able to accept and be accepted by the Wizarding World. She believed so, but by looking at him at that instant, she wasn't completely sure.

She feared that she was contributing to the discrimination against werewolves, instead of helping to end it.

She sat on her bed, making a short list of items she needed to take with her whenever she would go and see the pack. She had already helped Fenrir pack up his few belongings, and now it was time for her to do the same. Now, she wasn't staying to extremely long periods of time, but she felt like if she needed to stay at least a week, she should be ready to do so. Although, she hoped her stay would only last a few days at best. With her list completed, she placed it in front of her and grabbed a black backpack from under her bed.

The door to her bedroom opened as she got up and went to her dresser, her eyes glanced over in that direction to see her husband standing there, watching her.

"Hey," she said with a soft smile as she grabbed a few pairs of jeans out of the dresser and placed them on her bed. He smiled back lightly, while a bit of insecurity gleaned in his eyes.

"Are you going on assignment?" he asked, knowing that it was the reason she'd be packing a bag more often than not. She nodded with a slight sigh.

"It'll take a while, but I shouldn't have to be there constantly," she explained. "I thought it would be better to be ready for a long stay though than not at all. Sorry that this is so sudden."

"It's alright," he said. "It always is."

"I feel bad for leaving you all of the time," she admitted, looking him directly in the eye. Somehow, she couldn't help herself from feeling a bit awkward. Maybe it was the unsure look he was giving her. Maybe it was that she just wasn't as relaxed around him as she used to be. Maybe something had changed between them.

She just didn't know what.

He put his arms around her and held her close, knowing that he didn't want to ever lose her but feared that his actions would cause her to leave. She relaxed a bit in his arms as she closed her blue eyes and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. He wished that things could be the way they used to be, that their lives had never changed them both as people, that he wouldn't have to feel guilty around her but unable to tell her what he had done. He knew that he was hurting her, but to what level he didn't know. Somehow, he could just tell that she was unsure of him just as much as he was.

Gently, he ran his hand through her dark-brown hair and kissed her on the forehead, closing his eyes and wishing that they hadn't become such strangers to each other. He still loved her, but it was becoming harder for him to maintain the love he had for her. It didn't feel like it did all of those years ago.

After what seemed like hours, she looked up into his eyes, the guilt of leaving him shinning in her brilliant, blue eyes. He wanted to take that guilt away. Slowly and tenderly, his lips met her in a kiss, gently parting her lips. Her eyes closed as she deepened it, not wanting to rush this moment while still feeling a passion behind it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, putting her hands into his hair, pulling him closer to her. Neither of them wanted this moment to end.

"I can't believe you're suggesting to kill him!" Kael barked as he slammed his hand down on the small table that sat between him and his girlfriend. "He is the Alpha! He is the one who allowed me to even come to power! We can't kill him!" His rage burned in his blue eyes as he snarled his words. His girlfriend looked back at him in disgust, her lips curling into a snarl.

"Yes, we can," she growled, standing from her seat, threatening him. "Our pack allows it and he is different now than when he left us. If he comes back to power, you will lose your rank and he will reform the pack, making you the enemy. And when you are the enemy, you will be the target for hate within the pack. You'll be no better than that boy who insisted on speaking out against our power. Just look at what happened to him. Without power, you'd be better off if you were dead."

"You don't realize who we're talking about," he stressed, "do you? I'm talking about Fenrir, _our_ Alpha, the most influential and cunning werewolf in existence."

"He _was_ the most influential and cunning werewolf in existence," she retorted, "but Azkaban and the Ministry forced him to change that. He's no better than his son. He's too much like a wizard for us now because of the bitch of an Auror, Sira Volkov. She ruined him and made him something that he's not. Now, he's nothing to us, he's not the werewolf that we all used to know and love." Kael sat down in his chair as she went over to him, smiling because she knew he was fighting a losing battle with her, and that he was just about to give in. She stood behind him and ran her hands through his blonde hair, running them down to rub his chest. "He's not Fenrir Greyback, no, not anymore."

"Sage, if he's not then who is?" he asked, his anger leaving his eyes.

"You are," she said with a malicious grin.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"How does it feel to be Alpha again?" she asked as her blue eyes looked up into his yellow ones and a warm, loving smile graced her lips. He smiled back as he let out a soft chuckle and she gently rubbed his chest.

"It feels wonderful," he replied, causing her to smile a little more as she looked down, seemingly embarrassed. He leaned closer to her, so their faces were just inches apart. "Especially since I have you with me."

"Fenrir," she said as she started to blush. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," he let out another chuckle. "I really mean it." She blushed even harder, causing him to grin. He was so happy when he was with her, she made him feel so good. He was glad that she finally saw that he was better for her than Scabior was. That he wouldn't control her like Scabior did. That he wouldn't break her heart.

Slowly, his grin faded away, leaving her to look at him with a bit of confused innocence. He closed his eyes and took in a slow breath, before cupping her face in his hands. That's when his lips met her, and his nerves eased away. She didn't pull back, she didn't seem disgusted. Actually, she leaned into his kiss, deepening it, wanting it.

The knock on the door jolted him back to reality, forcing him out of his slumber and away from his dreams. "Come in," he said quickly, perhaps a bit too eagerly as he was still lost within the passion of his dream. She opened the door and stepped into his room, her eyes holding her question and nothing else.

"Are you about ready to go?" He answered her with a nod.

"Just give me a minute," he said as he stood up and put his packed bag on the bed. She nodded with a slight smile on her lips and left the room, causing him to sigh. He wished his dream could have been reality.

His footsteps were soft as he walked down Diagon Alley, searching for Flourish and Botts. He wanted to find some new information about werewolves, something that would comfort him in the fact that he would be going into the pack. He barely knew anything about werewolves, other than that they changed during the full moon, that when changed their appearance is similar to that of a normal wolf, that lycanthropy was carried through the blood and the saliva, and that to become a werewolf, you had to be bitten by one.

He didn't know anything about their social structure, or what the role of Alpha entailed, or if the extreme bloodlust they seemed to always have was a natural thing or if it was present only during the full moon. He didn't want to ask his father these sort of questions because he didn't want his father to think badly of him. He knew that werewolves weren't always savage as they are made out to be. Remus Lupin wasn't a savage and now his father wasn't a savage either, but Remus longed to live a normal life and his father had found that his life didn't have to be ruled by hate and distrust.

He feared that the other werewolves would be unwilling to change their ways.

He stepped into the bookstore to be greeted by his long-time friend, who had been working at the store for a few years during the summers when school was not in session. Even though he had got a new job at the Ministry, he still liked coming and helping out at the store when he could. "Hey, Anthony, how's it going?"

"It's been pretty good, Teddy," he replied with a smile. "I'm just looking to get a few books."

"What are you looking for?" Teddy questioned as he stood from his seat. It didn't look like the shop was busy, since there were only two other people milling around through the bookcases. Anthony chuckled, knowing that his friend must have been bored out of his mind since he didn't have much to do.

"Anything you have about werewolves," he answered, causing one person in the shop, an ancient-looking man with white hair and long beard, to glare at him. He put the book his was looking at on the shelf and stared at Anthony, recognizing him instantly.

"Go back to the pack," the man stated cruelly with a disgusted look on his face. "You'll learn more about your kind there than you ever could here. A son of that damned werewolf has no place in our society. Go back to the pack, where you belong."

He froze, as the man slowly left the store. He was seven again, running back home from playing with one of the neighbor boys with tears streaming down his face. His mom kneeled down and held him tightly in her arms, stroking his hair gently, trying to calm him down.

"What happened?" she asked him in a calm whisper.

"He- he said that he can't play with me anymore because of what I am," he said as he sobbed, putting his face into her shoulder. "I don't know what he means, Mommy."

She let out a deep sigh and held him tightly. "Anthony, you need to understand that I love you and that your dad loves you, no matter what. I didn't want to tell you this until you were a little bit older but you need to know." He looked up at her face, which grew more somber with each second as her trouble filled her eyes. "You are half werewolf."

His mind raced as he tried to process the words. "But, Mommy, you're not a werewolf," he said, his confusion in his voice, "and Daddy isn't a werewolf."

"No, we are not werewolves," she stated carefully, "but your father is."

"You just said that he wasn't a werewolf," he replied, still extremely confused.

"Scabior is not your father, Anthony," her eyes showed her pain and her hopes for his understanding. "Your real father is a werewolf."

He pulled out of her arms, hurt by her words as everything started making sense to him. Why his friend said his parents' didn't want a werewolf around, why his dad was sometimes so distant and different from him. Why he didn't really look like his dad. His tears flowed down his cheeks harder as he ran up to him room.

After a few minutes, his mother had come up to his room, slowly opening the door. "Anthony, can I talk to you?" she asked gently and he didn't respond, not wanting to accept what she had told her. She walked into his room and sat down on the bed beside him, looking at him with tear-stained eyes, knowing that she had hurt him. "I'm so sorry, Anthony," she said gently as she placed her hand on his shoulder. He didn't look at her, he just laid there, not wanting to even see her or to hear her voice. Had everything she ever told him been a lie?

"I didn't want you to know about this until you were older, but maybe I did the wrong thing by not telling you sooner. I didn't want you to grow up knowing that your dad, who loves you so much, isn't actually your father," she explained, trying to make sense of all of this. "I didn't want to hurt you with the truth, but I did anyway."

He turned and looked at her, sitting up slowly as he drew his knees to his chest and she withdrew her hand from his shoulder. The look in her eyes was just as terrible as he felt, maybe even more so. "Why isn't Daddy my father?" he asked, causing her to bite her lip, obviously fighting back her emotions.

"Your father, at that time, wasn't the man he is now," she replied carefully. "He used me for his own benefit, not understanding then the impact to would have on me, on you, and even on himself. He used a lot of people for different things, because he wanted power. I don't understand his reasoning on why he did what he did to me completely, but he said that he thought that I was powerful and he wanted a way to bind himself to me forever.

"I was engaged to be married to your dad at the time it happened, and I knew that I still wanted to marry him as long as he would still love me and would love you too. He agreed, and after the war was over and you were born, we married. He treated you like you were his own son, and I was thrilled he was. You don't know how worried I was that he wouldn't treat you well because you weren't his own flesh and blood."

"Where is my father? Can I see him?" he asked, not really wanting to meet him. From how she talked about him, he was a bit frightened of him. She shook her head.

"Your father is in Azkaban, currently on a life sentence."

"Is he a criminal?" he asked, as the word criminal brought a spark of some emotion into her eyes.

"Yes, he is," she answered, "but a criminal is just someone who has broken the law. They are people too, and they are just like the rest of us. The only difference between them and us is that they have done wrong in their life and they haven't made up for it yet. If your father ever gets out of Azkaban, he'll be a better man than what he was before. He'll no longer be criminal."

He nodded slowly as one final question came to his mind. He was no longer mad at her, or upset about what had happened to him in the last hour. He was just curious now more than anything.

"What is my father's name?"

"Fenrir Greyback," she said with a sigh as she put her arms around him, holding him close, as he recognized the name. He had heard it before, but he didn't know where from, but somehow, it caused a bit of dread in him, which his mom obviously felt. She raised his chin, making him look into his eyes. "Anthony, no matter what anyone tells you, do not let them change your opinion about your father. He is becoming a different man, and maybe someday, you'll have the chance to meet him for yourself and make your own opinion of him. Until then, trust your heart and learn about him, but don't dwell on what the others say. He is not you and you are not him. You may be his son, but that doesn't make you the same person. You both are entirely different people. Never forget that."

"Anthony, you alright?" Teddy asked, drawing him away from his thoughts. It wasn't the first time he was discriminated against because of what his father was.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he said with a sigh. He remembered when he first met Teddy. He was sitting in a train compartment alone as he watched the countryside fly by. It was his first year of Hogwarts and he was nervous for what the year would hold. He didn't want to be away from his family and he feared that he wouldn't be treated well because of who his father was. Halfway, he wished he could just go home.

Then the door opened and Teddy stepped in, sporting blue hair. "Can I sit with you? The other compartments are pretty full." Anthony nodded as he closed the door and sat down across from him. "I'm Teddy Lupin, by the way," he said with a smile and they shook hands.

"I'm Anthony Volkov," he replied.

"What's the matter, Anthony? Why are you so down?" Teddy asked quickly as he pulled some candy out of his bag.

"I'm just nervous. I hope people will like me." His comment caused Teddy to laugh.

"Why wouldn't they like you?"

"Because my father is a werewolf." He was bracing for Teddy to stand up and leave the compartment to find a different one, but instead, he just smiled as excitement entered his eyes.

"No way," he said quickly, "your father is a werewolf too! My father was a werewolf! His name was Remus." And it was in that moment that he realized that there was hope for him to make friends, and that he didn't have to be so nervous around everyone. Quickly, he and Teddy became close friends and their friendship only strengthened when they were sorted into the same house.

"Hey, buddy," Teddy said as he pushed Anthony gently, "back to reality. They're this way." Anthony nodded and followed him to the Magical Creatures section. Teddy motioned nonchalantly to the books on werewolves as leaned on one of the bookcases. "So how did it go?" he asked as he handed him a book.

"How did what go?" Anthony asked, thinking that he meant how meeting his father went but also knowing that he could also be asking about his little trip down memory lane.

"Your meeting," he replied flatly, giving him a look that Anthony knew all too well. That serious expression that says you're thick.

"It was good," Anthony answered. "Actually, I really liked being around him. He's completely different than what I expected."

"That's good."

They both felt that the conversation about fathers should end there. For all of their lives, they had lived without their fathers, it was something that bonded them together at first. Teddy's father had died in the war while his father for the longest time was essentially dead to him. They had grown up without them, and they were alright, but Teddy knew that, unlike his friend, he would never have the chance to even meet his father. The fact ate at him constantly.

Anthony pulled a few more books off of the shelf, nodding to his friend. "I think this is good for now."

"Alright, I'll ring them up," Teddy said as he pulled the books out of Anthony's arms and carried them to the cash register. He didn't even touch the register. All he did was write the names of the books down and push the books closer to Anthony. Anthony pulled come galleons out of his pocket to pay for the books, but Teddy just shook his head.

"No need to pay today, Anthony," he said as he stuck the note in the register. "My boss is very grateful for you fixing the shop up last week and told me to give some books to you for free if you wanted them."

"He already paid me," Anthony stressed to his friend. "He does not need to give me any more than that." His comment caused Teddy to smirk.

"Your honor gets the best of you, my friend," he said as he stepped away from the counter. With a sigh, Anthony pocketed his money and took the books, feeling guilty about it though. "See you later, Anthony." He waved and went to greet a couple new customers to the store. Anthony shifted the books into one hand and waved back, before exiting the store.

Sometimes, he would notice how much of a solitary creature he actually was. He didn't do so intentionally, but it just seemed to come easily for him. It was easy to stay back and watch people and their interactions with each other than to actually be within them and living them. Maybe he was just too deep and too analytical. Maybe he was just too mature for his age. Whatever the case, he didn't care. As he sat and read about werewolves though, something sparked within him, some interest, some desire, as if he longed to actually know what it was like to live within the pack.

So much was unknown and just waiting to be discovered. A lot of what the werewolves had to face was terrible and marked by painful transformation and losing yourself to a hidden beast within. But the brighter side of the story was that in the pack, they belonged.

He didn't want to be a werewolf, but something intrigued him about being around them. He thought it was because of the lure of the pack, of a strong family. He loved the family he had now, but they had always been treated differently what his friends' families had been. Their families didn't have a half werewolf son whose father was Fenrir Greyback, or an ex- Death Eater, or a former Snatcher. He felt that in the pack, he could maybe be treated better, because from what he had read, it seemed that he would be treated well because of who his father was. The idea seemed novel to him.

He closed one of the books he was reading and looked up, rubbing his eyes before he looked at the clock. He had been reading for hours now, but it didn't seem like it had been. There was a knock at his door, followed by the sound of it opening. His half-sister came into stepped into the room and sat down on his bed, looking at him. "I thought you were leaving with your parents," she said flatly.

"No, Mom just went to get my father settled in and might be staying with the pack a few nights every so often," he explained. She looked so much like their mother it was startling. They had the same dark-brown hair, the same shape to their face, similar heights, but her eyes were a greyer blue, more like her father's. "And I'll be going and visiting sometimes." She rolled her eyes.

"Same difference," she retorted. "Dad wants us to come downstairs and talk. He's pretty upset about something, but he wouldn't say what. I think he's upset that Mom just ran off with another man and will be cheating on him, but we know better, right? Mom's so uptight about honor and dignity that she won't be spreading her legs for any man that's not Dad."

"Izzy!" Anthony exclaimed with revulsion. "That's disgusting! You shouldn't be talking that way about her or about anyone." His sister was a couple of years younger than he was but a whole lot more immature. She shrugged.

"What? It's the truth," Isabella replied, scoffing a bit. "Be happy I didn't go into more detail." She stood up and left the room and, with a sigh, he followed her out and down the stairs to the living room, where Scabior was waiting for them. He was pacing nervously from one end of the room to the other as they both sat down in chairs, Anthony trying to sit as far away from his sister as he possibly could. Scabior looked at them and sighed, before sitting down on the sofa.

"I'm concerned about your mother," he said, never looking directly at them. "I'm worried that she's bit off more than she can chew and hasn't taken her own life into account. This is nothing against your father, Anthony, but these werewolves she'll be dealing with are complete savages. They're not like how Greyback is now, they're like how he was before. Cruel. Heartless." He shook his head. "I'm worried that she'll get herself killed."

"We all know that Mom is a badass," Izzy stated as she rolled her eyes. "She'll be fine." Scabior shot her a scolding look before looking back down at the ground.

"There's also another matter that needs to be mentioned," he said slowly, trying to sort the words that rattled in his mind. Eventually he sighed and looked them in the eyes. "I just want you to know that no matter what happens to your mother and me, we are still a family. Nothing can changed that."

"You heard that Fenrir was coming back, didn't you?" Sage questioned her friend, her hazel eyes glinting with her disgust. Her friend smiled shamelessly.

"Oh of course I did," her friend replied, "and I heard how much he has changed. Who does he think he is now? A wizard?" She scoffed. "More like a bitch to the Ministry."

"Kael still thinks of him as Alpha and believes that it is rightfully so. I persuaded him to think otherwise, but I doubt that he will take care of Fenrir like I believe he should to ensure his place."

"What did you suggest? Kill him?"

"That's exactly what I said, Myra," Sage stated as she looked her friend in her dark brown eyes. "And we'll have a lot of work to do if Kael won't do it." Myra tucked a strand of her jaw-length, black hair behind her ear.

"We could always do it ourselves and make it seem like Kael made us do it," she murmured, calculating the outcome of that. "That way, any rebellion of that would be directed at Kael, instead of us." Sage smiled, nodding slowly in agreement.

"That may just be perfect," Sage said. "We'll map out our plan of action later. I have to go see Kael now and apologize for angering him the other day." She shook her head with a grin on her face. "He's so thick sometimes."

With that, she walked away from her friend and into Kael's tent, her plan already developing in her mind.


End file.
